


half as bright, twice as long

by chahakyn



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Ep. 111 Spoilers, Ep. 117 Spoilers, Gen, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:42:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25265536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chahakyn/pseuds/chahakyn
Summary: second lives aren't really worth living
Comments: 12
Kudos: 22





	half as bright, twice as long

It hurts being dead. But also, not dead. You are and you aren’t. You aren’t and yet you are. The Catalogue of the Trapped Dead is vague like that, holding a soul hostage where it fundamentally should not exist.

Gerard’s voice grates, floats, music and dissonance to the ear. No corporeal body, no skin, no fingers to touch. Just a shadow of a human, an expanse of humanity where there ought not to be one, encased in the kind of suffering things shouldn’t have to experience. A human soul, in a book; no longer a soul but a _book_. The End is not kind in that regard.

It would be better, of course, if he wasn’t yanked from the book on the Hunters’ whims. It feels like mere moments before they pull him out again, summoning him from his page. Or maybe infinite eternities pass before the book is opened again. Time is novel, time doesn’t exist, time _aches_ where it leaves a gaping hole in his mind. He can’t grasp anything solid in this existence, his mind can barely ascertain time, truth, memory, any of it. Logically, it should be at least a few weeks between each time the Hunters summon him. But it feels like years (or maybe only a few moments). It’s hard to tell what the truth is when the human mind, so flexible, so endless in its expanse, its knowledge, loyalty, love, fear, hate, longing, is all packed into a flat page of confinement, square inches of living space where the mind was boundless and free once upon a time.

He snarls at the Hunters when they ask him questions, baring his teeth in a scowl he wishes would hurt them, scare them. But that isn’t what unsettles them; no, it’s his state of being, how he’s dead but still around. The Hunters fear him, but they need him, want to never let go of him despite their disgust and hatred for him (“Go away, go away” he screams in his flat, endless, crushing prison, “Let me die, just let me _die_."

Or does he scream? If a tree falls where no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound? Does a soul, once human, now anything but, scream? If it even does, can it ever hope to be heard?)

The book has taken everything from him, even his will to fight back in any way he can. The Hunters don’t pay attention, as it is. They ask questions, dangling freedom over his head before shutting him back up again in his lonely, unsettling existence. But what choice does he really have? Gerard’s valuable to them, he knows that. No matter how much he could refuse to answer, that potential for knowledge, the fact that he _could_ answer if they shake him hard enough, is too irresistible for the Hunters to leave him to rot between the pages.

And besides. He’s lonely, sue him. Conversing with people, even if he abhors the sight of them, holds some value in whatever his heart is, wherever it may be. 

He is angry, though, furious when the Archivist speaks to him (Jonathan, the Archivist, not Gertrude, far from it). But he hasn’t lost all his faculties. He wields this chance like a sharp knife, twisting it and grinning with too many teeth as he strikes a deal with the Archivist; tear me out and you’ll get your information. And he…actually goes for it, which is surprising. But not unwelcome, certainly not.

Being torn from the book is a different kind of pain than existing in the book. Pains of white-hot agony, of being torn from your lifeforce, your _existence_ , conflicting thoughts of death, life, rebirth, burning pain at the hands of the Archivist (Gertrude’s replacement, how laughable, how sobering a reminder that she’s gone, how right that her replacement is the one that sets him free from the prison she so unjustly trapped him in, justice and all that vindictive nonsense, oh so sweet).

But then it’s done. Gerard’s out. He still isn’t human. He’s still a shadow of what he was before the book. But now he isn’t a book; he’s just a page. The weight of being crushed beneath hundreds and hundreds of other pages, compressed between the leather-bound covers, is gone. All he can feel is the press of the Archivist’s fingers at the bottom of the page where his thumb and his forefinger keep a steady grip on him.

One step closer to the end of all this, Gerard thinks cheerfully as he speaks to the Archivist, a bit more of a normal, human-like lilt in his voice. Perhaps he might feel some semblance of normalcy for a bit after all. And it is sort of an ordinary feeling, talking to the Archivist. Having a _real_ conversation, where he’s allowed to ask questions and actually say no sometimes, unlike when the Hunters speak to him. It all makes him feel like a nice, regular human being. Except the conversation topics are anything but normal, of course. The Archivist asks a lot of questions about Gertrude, and Gerard complies.

“She travelled light, you know,” he says, tilting his head. “Left things _behind_.”

The Archivist shifts uncomfortably in his seat. Ah. So, he knows about how she operated, then. Better now than later, Gerard thinks as he grins to himself. It’s always fun making people a little uncomfortable, when it’s of your own accord, of course. But when he gives his little statement to the Archivist, he can see him straighten in his seat, body leaning towards him unconsciously as Gerard speaks. He sees that little glint in the Archivist’s eye, the one he sometime caught a glimpse of in Gertrude’s gaze. The Eye seems to have chosen a decent replacement for her after all, it seems.

He finishes his statement with a tired sigh and then the Archivist (so much weaker than Gertrude, but somehow stronger, kinder, because of _course_ there are many different ways of being strong) calls him Gerry and he feels the rush of relief that has finally been released. It feels like it’s been several lifetimes since he stood in the kitchen and asked her, five years old and so _stupidly_ hopeful, “Mum, can you call me Gerry?” Or has it only been a few suspended moments in time since Mary gave him that scowl and a smack up his head? Maybe it’s both, maybe it’s neither; maybe he’s still just a little boy, trapped in the personal nightmare of his mother’s dreams when all he wanted was to be normal, to be loved.

It’s a bit before he feels himself being opened again, from where he’s been folded into a little square by the Archivist, tucked somewhere dark and cool. He isn’t called forth; the Archivist is apparently kind enough to at least give him that, but he can feel the man holding his page, fingers shaking. Gerry can almost, _almost_ hear him talking, if he concentrates enough to listen. But he doesn’t care enough to do so. If the Archivist is a man of his word, this will be his last time in this state. If he’s better than Gertrude, he’ll do what he damn well promised, and he’ll burn this cursed piece of paper to ash.

And he does. The fire licks at the pages’ edges of Gerry’s existence, a pain burning so hot, so bright. But it’s also such a delicious feeling, tasting of the satisfaction and fulfillment of finally being free from his mum’s grasp and from Gertrude because, _fuck_ , he loved her, that ruthless woman, but you can never forgive someone for doing what she did to him, no matter how much you care.

But that doesn’t matter now, because Gerry can finally be where he is meant to be. The fire burns and tastes of smoke and ash, but it also tastes of finality, and of _relief_.

**Author's Note:**

> christ i have so many feelings about gerry ahhhhh
> 
> (listening to ep 111 and to binary made me curious about how the human mind might operate and feel when squeezed into places they don't belong, like computers or books)
> 
> come find me on [ tumblr](https://shizuoi.tumblr.com/) if you want to talk more!


End file.
